Gabriele has informed me that this week’s snippets are to be naughty.
‘R’ rated, she specifies.
So, all underage readers please stop reading now.
Here is my naughty snippet from Time for Alexander (which I’m sure you all know is available for the modest sum of 5$ over at Calderwood Books…Enjoy!)
Alexander paced aimlessly, picking things up and putting them down. He took his ceremonial helmet and looked at it, smoothing the tassels in the back. Then he unfolded his tunic and fingered the stiff pleats. He touched the blue glass lamp, making it swing. Finally he sat down next to me on the bed and said, “You know, I really should have had her killed.”
I laughed nervously. “No, you were right to let your mother go. She’s just trying to help, I’m sure. From what I understand she went to see an oracle and this person put some wild ideas in her head. It’s not your mother’s fault.”
“But Barsine! Why?”
“She’s a woman, she wants a baby. It would make her happy.” I shuddered, though. If the history books were correct, Olympias would kidnap one of Alexander’s wives and her child. They would all be killed by Cassander. Was it Barsine? Stateira? I wished I could remember more details. What would happen if I told Alexander? If I warned him, what would happen then? I put my face in my hands. What could I do? When Alexander died I would be alone here, and I would have a hard enough time keeping out of the murderous fray that followed his death. If I had my own baby back, my Paul, I would have to find a way to care for him. I bit my fingernails, distressed. I couldn’t risk being erased; no one would take care of Paul. Or would he disappear too? I got up and paced back and forth.
“What are you doing?” Alexander was staring at me.
“I see that. If you’re so upset about Barsine I can intercept her cortège and send her back.”
“No, don’t do that. I’d like to meet her. Really, I would,” I insisted, seeing the doubt in his eyes.
“Why do you look so, so…”
“Upset?” I tried to smile, failed, and sat down again. “Oh Alex, it’s nothing. You know how pregnant women get, all emotional and silly. I’m sure Aristotle must have said something about that.”
“Some women, maybe, but not you. You don’t ever let your emotions show. You keep everything hidden behind that icy gaze. Do you know what they say about you?”
“You mean besides saying I’m a goddess and an oracle?”
“They say you spent too much time in the kingdom of the dead, and that your heart is frozen.”
I was startled. “But why?”
“When the wounded soldiers came in you would smile at them, as if you didn’t care.”
I gasped. “But I thought that it would comfort them! I didn’t want them to see how worried I was!”
“But they knew how grievous their wounds were. My soldiers are all professionals. They don’t need you to hide your feelings from them. They want honesty. It’s a sign of respect in this world. To them you were making light of their wounds.”
“Do you believe that?” I asked, hurt.
“No, of course not, nor does Usse. But you have to stop hiding your feelings and saying things with two meanings. Perhaps in the world of the gods it is different, although you claim to be a mortal. For a mortal you act remarkably like a god. We’re used to their duplicity, but not yours.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. He was too earnest and each word was painful. “I didn’t realize that,” I whispered.
“I think that if you cannot tell the truth, perhaps it would be better to say nothing.” Alexander’s voice was gentle, as if talking to a small child. I felt my cheeks get hot and I knew that my nose would start bleeding. I pinched the bridge of my nose hard to try and stop it, but it was too late. Blood spattered on my lap, staining my robe.
“Oh no,” I moaned, grabbing a towel. I pressed it to my face and used it to hide my angry tears. Did he think it was easy for me? I lowered the towel and narrowed my eyes. No one understood me. I was stuck here. There was nowhere I could go. I could never return to my own time. I was pregnant, and the only man I’d ever loved was criticizing me – and his first wife was arriving in a matter of days. A shudder ran through me.
Alexander took the towel from my numb hands and gently wiped my face, pausing now and then to kiss me. I pushed him away, but he persisted. I turned my back to him, and he ran his hands down my spine, rubbing his thumbs into my muscles, kneading my back and ending up with his hands encircling my shoulders. Then he started to massage my neck, tickling my cheeks, and leaning down to nibble on my earlobe and lips.
I ended up kissing him back. I put my arms around his neck and pulled him down on the bed. When he was near me, touching me, his mouth on mine, his hands roaming over my body, I simply couldn’t imagine life without him.
His eyes, so large, long, and fierce, saw right through me. His body was an electric charge. His personality was a drug. I was completely addicted to him. I fastened my mouth on his neck like a vampire, and gave him a love bite. He growled and bit my shoulder. Our lovemaking degenerated into a wrestling match. He was a pro at wrestling; I suppose he learned at school in Greece.
I had been on a wrestling team in my all-girls school. It was one way of getting our frustrations to a manageable level. I had some terrific memories of those games, legs sliding against legs, backs arching, bellies and hips touching. In a moment I would dissolve into a boneless shiver of desire. I threw myself sideways and then twisted around, straddling his back. I flung my arm around his neck in a half-nelson and tried to throw him. He just gave a deep chuckle and slid out from beneath me with a movement like silk. I gasped and then moaned as he pulled me to him from behind. I don’t think I had ever been as excited.
However, I was strong and lithe, and he hadn’t won quite yet. I scissored my legs and grabbed him around the torso. Using my body as a lever, I managed to throw him down. He was a bit hampered by his erection, but he easily avoided being pinned and slipped away again, his eyes dancing.
My breath was coming in short gasps, and I decided that the best way to finish this game would be to surrender. So I did by grabbing him around the neck and dragging him down on top of me. I arched my back and met him halfway.
In the end, I’m not sure who won. I woke up on the floor. Alexander’s body seemed to be braided with mine and with all the covers on the bed that we’d dragged down on the floor with us. He had fallen soundly asleep, as he usually did after a bout of lovemaking. I had slept too. I wondered what had woken me and then I heard a small cough.
I turned my head, not an easy feat with all the covers and one of Alexander’s arms around me, and looked.
Axiom was standing in the tent’s entrance. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. I tried to help him. “Yes Axiom, what can I do for you?”
“It’s just that someone has arrived, my Lady, someone for Iskander.”
Alexander stirred and raised his head. His hair fell into his eyes, making him look like a dissolute lion. “What is it?” he groaned, getting to his knees and pushing his hair back.
“It’s your first wife, sir. It’s Barsine. She’s come early.”